The base was in absolute chaos.

You had been running at Mach 10 for the past twenty minutes, a whirlwind of unchecked energy and pure mischief, much to Optimus Prime’s ever-growing horror.

“✨VIOLENCE✨,” you declared proudly, sprinting past Ratchet, who nearly dropped his datapad in shock.

Optimus’ optics immediately widened. “NO—NO VIOLENCE—”

Too late. You had already launched yourself across the room, skidding across the floor on your knees like some kind of possessed rockstar before popping up and dramatically whispering:

“✨✨DESTRUCTION✨✨.”

Then you bolted—straight for the weapons storage.

“NO—NO DESTRUCTION EITHER—”

Optimus lunged, but you were too fast. With the grace of a caffeinated gremlin, you yeeted yourself up onto a shelf, grabbed a double-barrel shotgun, and somehow did a backflip off, landing in a crouch like you were about to drop the sickest album of the year.

Optimus barely had time to process what was happening before you took off again.

“BULKHEAD, WHAT DID YOU DO?!” he roared, already sprinting after you.

Bulkhead, who was casually sipping his own drink, blinked in confusion. “What? They said they were thirsty—”

Ratchet turned to him, horror in his optics. “Please tell me you didn’t—”

“…I gave them the Energon-infused caffeine drink Sideswipe likes.”

The room went silent.

Ratchet exhaled. “You absolute fool.”